


Flawed Diamond

by Someotherwriter



Category: Original Work
Genre: Angst and Feels, Asexual Character, Asexuality, Blood and Injury, Character Death, Heist, M/M, Multiplicity/Plurality, Murder, Near Death Experiences, Past Character Death, Slow Burn, Slow To Update, Suicidal Thoughts, Theft, Vegetarians & Vegans
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-26
Updated: 2021-02-08
Packaged: 2021-02-26 07:22:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21569863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Someotherwriter/pseuds/Someotherwriter
Summary: Given that the murder of twelve and theft of a rather large diamond occured four years ago, you would think the drama would have worn off. But the return of a war veteran and a small town librarian may just stirr things up again.Pitted against each other, secrets will come to light that just may tear the small town of Estervine apart.
Kudos: 2





	1. Introduction

Cooling sand slithered into his shoes as he ran across the length of the desert, the group of men dogging him. His foot caught on a small dune of sand which caused him to tumble and crash. As he struggled to rise, he fought against the shifting ground, and his hand sank into the sand instead of holding firm on the semi-solid ground.

Their rough huffs for breath alerted him to his followers’ presence as they caught up. Once again, he struggled to rise and ceased when a hand clamped down on his shoulder. He turned, lying on his back, his eyes locked with his attacker, and he jerked upwards, fingers extended to claw at his captor’s face.

……………..

The sweat ran down his brow and yanked him out of the memory; he sighed and shook his head. The doorbell rang alarming him. His mind flickered restlessly listing the possibilities of who it could be. Especially in the small town, at this time of night. His door clicked as he unlocked it, the small town’s deputy, Officer Janderswine, stood just outside. He looked a little uncomfortable to be disturbing a citizen at such a late hour. But the man could also see there was tenseness in his stance and shoulders.

“Horacio Viteron, I presume. Do you think we could take a brief look around?” The deputy asked and in the moment of silence following shifted his weight. “I would prefer not to have to take this to a judge for a warrant.” Janderswine stared at the man, a silent plea in his eyes. The owner’s lack of movement seemed to be a signal for a few other officers to step forward. As if they would have any better luck convincing the man.

“Sure.” He said quietly stepping aside, “May I ask what this is about?” He asked calmly, making sure there was no change in his tone that betrayed nervousness or confusion. The memory was still resonating in the forefront of his mind, giving him some lack of composure. And making his responses curter as if they were to protect him from that past experience.

The deputy sighed lightly, “I am sorry to do this at such an hour, and when you have just recently returned. But…” he trailed off looking to the men behind him, “But we received a tip that you may have been related to the murder of twelve men. An event that occurred, close to the same time the famous Egyptian diamond was stolen. You know, four years ago, if it wasn’t such recent information we wouldn’t even bother.” Janderswine paused looking to his men again, “There is no evidence linking the two crimes, or at least none that we have found…” he smiled faintly, “So do not worry, we are not accusing you of anything. We just wanted to do a quick search, since it is rather a…” he pursed his lips, his expression growing firmer. “A source that lacks our trust.” He explained.

His men stood outside and shifted uneasily on their feet, but the dust from their boots had already leaked into his house from the open doorway. Reminding him of the dry weather, in which the rain had not come and the grass lacking a good watering had become dirt. The city’s strict watering policy preventing most people from watering their lawns to prevent them from turning into dirt. His own needed some watering, even though he had changed it through hard labor and the use of xeroscaping.

He gave a quick nod assenting to their search and they began to uniformly search the house, looking everything over before putting it back in place. In a couple of minutes they had searched the pristine semi-suburban home. The owner’s habit of keeping very little personal items had not changed in the decades of his life.

The officers filed out and the deputy began apologizing once again for the interruption and they left in their black streaked white cars, the sirens as silent as a funeral.

…………

A knock sounded on his door and he rose from mentally devouring the book, a series which he had not been able to enjoy in his travels. When he had returned to his hometown he had found several new installments in it. He answered the door and politely greeted the deputy, “How may I help you officer?” It was Officer Janderswine, a rather unlucky name, but he didn’t seem too bothered by it.

“It seems the tip you gave us was false. There was nothing in his house and I would appreciated it if you did not send false information that accuses good people of being involved with heinous crimes,” he said as nicely as he could, but the man could still hear bitterness underlying the officer’s false persona. Barely hiding the sharp anger and accusation present in his voice.

“I apologize for using up your time, deputy, and for falsely accusing a retired veteran of being involved with a string of murders that happened four years ago.” He responded softly, looking briefly at the officer to meet his gaze and read his expression. He had said those particular words and allegations so carefully before, but he needed to know how the officer was going to react to him in the future.

“Thank you.” Officer Janderswine let out a long breath before speaking again, “Since you apologized I will not ask him if he wants to press charges against you. But I feel as if you should likewise apologize to him before we sweep this under the rug.” He smiled ironically. “After all, we need you as our librarian, Mr. Jackson _.”_ And the deputy left, the air chilling as his body heat followed after him. The open door allowing the cool wind to creep in and fill the man with an unmatched sense of emptiness and fear.


	2. Henry

Mr. Jackson had called in previously to have the day off, but Henry had not understood why. Since the man seemed to love being in the library, even if he was quiet when working with the people who came to check out books.

“Yes, young'un Henry.” An elderly lady waved them closer, trying to get them to lean over the counter to hear her. “You should be more careful with your next job.” At their slightly confused expression she waved them closer. “Didn't you hear?” she asked concerned and confused. “Surely yo’ve heard it already, being the young’un that you are.” She waved them off before they could say anything. “I hear that your boss accused Mr. Viteron of being some sort of jewel thief! And a murderer on top of it!” her voice raised loud enough that those lurking between the shelves or using the tables for study could hear her. From the heads that turned to them, Henry knew that she had been heard. “What kind of man does that? Honestly!” she huffed. “Mr. Jackson is far more likely to have been the one that did it. With how quiet and separate he keeps himself.” She argued some more.

“Ma’am.” Henry cut in, smiling politely. They found with their short cropped hair and faint smile, most people quieted and listened to them, if only to try and determine if they were male or female. “I’m afraid I do not know anything about that. But… I dislike talking about my employer behind his back. He has worked hard to keep this library updated and in its well kept shape, despite the age of the building. So, please.” They cut off anymore, knowing that she would have her own thoughts no matter what they said. They smiled once again. “Will that be all that you’re checking out today?” they directed their gaze to the books and movies, scanned during the woman’s conspiratorial rant.

The woman followed their gaze, showing surprised once again. “Yes.” She began slowly. “Thank ya, young’un.” With that it almost seemed like she had forgotten the conversation, or more likely what Henry had said to protect their boss. Despite the halted conversation and continuation of their work, the gazes of those in the library lingered.

Mr. Jackson already had several rumors about him when Henry had first began working at the library. The major one being; _why would a single good looking man decided to take care of a musty old library?_ One that needed to be knocked down more than used. Instead Mr. Jackson had set up the funding for the library repairs, remodeling it while keeping some of the old architecture. That had been during his time with the city council, when people still approached him, despite his quiet nature. At least that was what their parents told them.

His knowledge of the town’s laws and history led them into setting up a successful historical center. But for a loner like Mr. Jackson, it couldn’t stay that good, the lead manager of the town’s restoration projects vanished. The woman had been rumored to be involved with Mr. Jackson as she was the only one that got him out of his shell. They could recall the day, all the online messengers had been swamped with rumors and first accounts of Jackson burning, burying, or cutting up her body.

And yet, her body still hadn’t been found, no matter how many times the police checked the dig sites and Mr. Jackson’s yard. A yard that still showed the signs of their searches, as if the flowers and lawn consciously rejected them.

They sighed faintly scanning in some more books, despite their apparent natural abilities as one of the younger generation. Mr. Jackson seemed to be able to check in and put away the books so much faster. Probably because he had read a decent amount of them himself. And despite the teenagers who came in and pointed out that they liked Henry’s book recommendations. Mr. Jackson was also the one who put up and maintained the website, keeping track of what was popular and what was actually good.

Henry sipped from their tea cup shaking it a little to try and dissolve the small sediment at the bottom. _What had their parents said about Mr. Jackson? When they had been so against Henry working there because of the rumors?_ It wasn’t something they liked to recall, a faint flash of bright pink took their attention. They frowned focusing on one of the children replacing the book in the wrong place and groaned faintly. They would have to go through that section again before the library closed. Mr. Jackson never complained about it, when they couldn’t get to it. But then his time was spent replacing the books rather than handling other affairs.

They returned to their previous thoughts, deciding to leave the book where it was, given there were likely several more that were going to be misplaced. _What had happened to Mr. Jackson?_ They pondered. He wasn’t involved in the disappearance of the woman, and that had been proven when credit card trail showed her leaving town. While a suspicious note had been left, stating that she had found prospects elsewhere. But those had at least given the police enough proof to leave Mr. Jackson alone. _Had they made him leave the council because of that?_ The current councilors were shallow enough to do that, but it had been several years. Perhaps the previous councilors had been worse, refusing to believe in him despite how he had grown up here.

_Though…_ A lot had changed when Mr. Viteron had shown up. He was immediately pulled onto the council, though he only remained on it for a year and a half. He had decided it was not the right work for him, despite the councilors always begging to have him back. It was just because he had served in the army, as a respected officer. Given the visible scars on his hands and face, he had been involved in the wars, likely killed people. Compared to Mr. Jackson, who nearly looked like he would snap if he tried to lift up a chair. Mr. Viteron was far more suspicious

The door clicked sharply, some students had messed it up after fighting over a book and a girl. So now it stuck when someone pushed it all the way open. It worked pretty well for alerting them to someone entering; Mr. Jackson just seemed to know, even if he was deep in a book. Henry looked up and a sudden twist turned their mood and stomach, making it seem like their insides were rejecting the presence of this person. Mr. Viteron.

“Welcome.” They greeted softly, meeting the man’s sharp green eyes, they glinted in the faint light like some dangerous predator. They turned their gaze back to scanning the books in, several students liked to put the books in the slot rather than handing them to Henry. 

The man’s heavy steel toe boots tread loudly against the wooden floor. The floor that Mr. Jackson had nearly killed himself over a couple of times trying to keep clean and in good condition, if not perfect condition. But children always could create disasters the moment you were looking away. “Is Mr. Jackson in?” he asked softly, there was something about his tone that made him seem trustworthy and comforting. But Henry had enough meetings with this man to not trust that, even though nearly everyone else fell into that trap.

“I’m afraid he’s taken the day off.” Henry responded curtly, their first meeting had not been the best and judging from the look in the man’s eyes. This one was not going to go much better.

“Did he get tired of cleaning up after your mess?” he asked lightly, stepping closer to the counter to lean on it. A comfortable, but aggressive motion. Trying to claim the space as his own, to make Henry uncomfortable. “I see you’re going by a different name today as well.” He gestured faintly to the name tag on Henry’s flat chest. Though pinned near the shoulder as not to bring any more attention to their chest.

Henry raised an eyebrow, “No, he planned this day for a while, and given how much he works. I doubt anyone can blame him.” Mr. Viteron’s smile fell at the corners of his lips, losing the amused touch. “I would recommend waiting until he comes in tomorrow, he’s impossible to find on his days off.” They pointed out. “What is the change of my name tag to you anyway?” They had slipped into my rather than we as this man had a particular inclination in trying to crush their plurality. Most people just ignored or accepted it. Their first meeting had a lot to do about their apparent lack of gender, or how hard they were trying not to appear as either gender. Making the man question out loud what they were. Typical of the man’s personality type.

“It’s just amusing.” He said without any apparent amusement. “Good advice though, no one knows where he goes during his days off.”

“Are you trying to chase down that rumor?” They asked absently, the beep of the scanner seeming too loud in the silence that had fallen over the library.

“What rumor?” it was curious, in its tone, but also seeming that he was trying to hide irritation.

“The one where he accused you of being involved with stealing the Egyptian diamond and killing, what was it?” they paused, “Twenty men.” They had heard several rumors about how many it was, ranging from hundreds to two.

“Twelve men.” He responded curtly. “No, I just wanted to talk to him. To see if it had any truth, and why he would start it in the first place.” He shrugged his shoulders, but it was more of a rolling motion, suggesting he was preparing himself for something.

“Better wait until tomorrow then.” They suggested, the energy coming off this man was always uncomfortable, but it was even worse than usual. Perhaps his mood was finally affecting it, rather than the flatness he usually had when expressing emotions or faking them.

Viteron focused on them, “You should stop with all the makeup, and it looks like one couldn’t tell from your bone structure anyway. And binders aren’t good for you to wear.” He added and waved at them over his shoulder while walking away.

They glared after him; of course he had to bring his opinions back into it. As he always did. They were not wearing a binder, and the makeup was very light. They had been born with a rather androgynous face. Perhaps it was a mild hint at their true nature, something they had accepted, but only shared during middle school. By the time high school rolled around, everyone had heard about it. And all the things that could have been said by bullies had already been said.

They sighed faintly and stared at the still stuck door, it took them a few moments of silence before they moved around the counter and tapped it. Just to watch it slowly close itself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did some massive editing of this, but I'm sure there are still errors lurking within.  
> Also I'll mess more with the woman's drawl when I get a better idea of what I want it to sound like.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's some suicidal ideation here, if that bothers you, go ahead and skip to the next time break.

Mr. Jackson stared at the long drop; he had been sitting on the edge of the cliff for a long time. Nearly the whole day in fact. It only reminded him, that he had been sitting on the edge for the past four years of his life. And all the intermediate steps in between the beginning of his life to now. It struck a chord in him, how easily he could be pushed off, both physically and emotionally.

He sighed and tilted his head back; he sat there for a moment before he laid back and stared at the sky. No one ever found him. No one ever knew how close he always came to death on his days off. Of either slipping off or pushing himself into that darkening canyon below.

It was nice, to be alone with his thoughts. With all the mistakes and triumphs of his life. He ran his hands over his face; he had really made a mistake this time. Trying to tell the police directly that Viteron had been involved in the crime. Rather than his previous strategies of sending in hinting letters. Small bits of proof.

But that also had been stupid. He pressed his hands hard against his eyelids; he sent them when Viteron was still part of the police force. So he had likely destroyed them before the others could glance at them. Or they had, and given that man’s influence…. He had shrugged it off. Or got them to shrug if off.

He pressed harder getting white spots to pop up in the darkness of his eyelids. The faint pain drew him away from those memories always lurking at the back of his head. The memories of when he had been foolish enough to follow that man.

He groaned faintly and sat up, he couldn’t always escape them. His ankles scuffed the edge of cliff, he had fallen off once. His arm and leg held scars from where the doctor had to perform surgery to put the rods and nails in. They ached faintly in memory. He could barely recall that it was a call from the hikers who had found him halfway down the canyon. He brushed the scar at the top of his head, it was the day Viteron had come to his home town… He should have expected it to be such a bad omen, but he had survived.

Mr. Jackson stood slowly making sure his shoelaces didn’t catch on the rough rock. Then walked back to his car, the one his parents had left him. They had died during his last year of high school. The year before he decided to travel the world, with the money they had left him and the experience they engrained into him.

He stopped to touch the fading paint; he always told himself that he was going to paint over it himself. He had restored the car, the engine and some other internal parts. But the paint… he couldn’t find the same shade that it originally had been. And he couldn’t bring himself to color over the faded maroon; it looked too much like the blood on his hands.

…..

Mr. Jackson returned to work the next day, but his mood was subdued, more so than usual. Stacey watched him for a long moment before going back to the books they could not shelf yesterday. He seemed lethargic almost as if he hadn’t been sleeping, or if he was getting a cold.

Despite his stature, Stacey hadn’t ever had Mr. Jackson take a sick day, even when he looked worse than he did now. Given that he had been here over four years, it was quite strange. Then of course, the man seemed to have a great deal of his own secrets and mysteries.

“Is there something on my back, Stacey?” Mr. Jackson asked without turning away from the front desk. There was a distinct lack of people checking out books, or even coming into the library today. Of course those already set up were happy to be left alone and in the usual quietness. More quiet without the children. “Stacey?” he questioned again, startling them out of their reverie.

“Ah… No. Sorry.” They said quickly looking back to their shelf.

He turned to them, his expression soft, but not really holding much else besides faint amusement. Perhaps a little boredom. He probably wanted to be reading rather than manning the desk on such a slow day. “That didn’t sound very convincing.” He pointed out and picked up a book from the cart, placing it on the higher part of the shelf, where they hadn’t even started to put books back. “I can assume ya’ll’ve heard the rumors.

Stacey paused and Mr. Jackson nodded without looking to them. “I didn’t say anything.”

“We didn’t say anything.” He corrected softly. “I generally know how ya guys feel.” He began quietly, the door creaked, but he remained there. “I can say some of them are true and some are false.”

“Should we even ask which ones are which?” Jackson smiled faintly and they knew the answer. “Why is your mood down then? If you know about the rumors?”

“I did something stupid.” He practically whispered, then turned away from them before they could even think to ask about it.

“Hello.” He greeted walking back to the counter, his footsteps faltered for a moment. Potentially giving them an idea of who it might be. “Officer Monroe.” He greeted.

“I heard about what happened.” The woman began quietly; she had always been respectful of the library’s rules. “Did… Did you think?” she hissed out the question. “I mean. Seriously! I only saved your butt because we’ve known each other since we were kids. I’ve always been the one pointing them another direction, the right direction usually. But this time…” her uniform jangled, meaning she was shaking her head. Stacey made their way around to peek at the conversation. “Going after him? Again? How could you be so stupid?”

Jackson was merely staring at her, with something of a blank expression. “I realize how stupid it was… I…” he faltered and pressed a hand to his face, a motion that they had seen him do very little. But it was something he did when he was extremely stressed, such as when one of the children injured themselves in some manner. Or when he had been borrowing a book from the London library and one of the college students got cheeto fingerprints all over it. At least they had enjoyed reading about the roman laws. “I didn’t get my head back until I had told them.” He finally responded, she was merely staring at him, concerned but also angry.

“So… You still did it?” she sighed now, losing some of the anger. “I protected you as much as I could when I heard about it. But the town is beginning to go for your blood.” She shook her head sharply. “They’re only afraid that you’ll take away the giant funding that your parents have put into the schools and the funding you’ve put into the historical center.” She clicked her tongue. “If only those council members weren’t so obsessed with image, you would still be on it.”

“You know that’s not the full reason they kicked me off.” He muttered.

“Right.” She sighed. “I understand why you dislike the guy, but… really murder?” she shook her head. “What would he have to gain from stealing that bloody thing? It hasn’t surfaced, so he didn’t do it for money. And not for fame, because he hasn’t sprawled his face everywhere, or even claimed that he was part of those who stole it.” She grimaced, “he certainly bragged about his war stories.” Jackson looked away sharply. “So… Could you leave it alone? And keep your head down until this cools?” she suggested softly, stepping closer to the counter.

Jackson raised his head and stared at her, making her take that step back. “Fine.” He said firmly. “I had already decided to give up on it.” Something entered his expression, but he quickly hid it again. “Don’t worry about me.” He reassured her gently.

**Author's Note:**

> So, this was orignally an english assignment, due to some encouragement I'm working to rewrite it.  
> You all can blame my coworkers for egging me into posting some of my writing.


End file.
